


Thunderation

by MidnightBeast1098



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, and stuff, but cute stuff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:47:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightBeast1098/pseuds/MidnightBeast1098
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a storm coming. And Erik doesn't like thunderstorms... Charles tries to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gemma Tose](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Gemma+Tose).



> Cute little Cherik. Well, I think it's cute. 
> 
> I love Cherik. :3

Erik hated thunderstorms.

The clattering, the banging, the flashing. It reminded him of metal, but not the kind he manipulated: harsh, pointed metal, rusty and cold. But, it also reminded him of something much worse.

Charles loved thunderstorms.

The clattering, the banging, the flashing. It entertained him, and he was fascinated by it. When he was a child, Charles would just sit on the window pane and watch.

So it was no surprise that, when he was older, he'd love to do it as well; even trying to drag along his boyfriend.

That evening was a particularly bad storm. Charles even wondered if the young mutant, only 13, sleeping next door could have conjured up such rabid clouds. Dragging a chair to the window, he collapsed, leaning his arms engagingly on the wood.

“Are you coming?” he asked over his shoulder to the blond cowering at the door.

“Oh, I'm quite tired... I think I'm just going to go straight to bed.” Charles glanced over. Erik's eyes ghosted over Charles' tousled brown hair and stared into the dark depths. A particularly loud thunder clap sounded, and they both jumped; Charles recovered quickly, but Erik's palms dampened and he curled his hands into fists.

Charles sauntered over and clasped Erik's hands in his own, his eyes flickering up to the taller's. “Don't you dare,” Erik whispered.

“I would never,” Charles murmured back, kissing his lips softly. “Come on, this one is going to be great.”

“Fantastic,” Erik said sarcastically. Charles dragged him to the window and sat him on the wooden chair, grabbing another one for himself.

Warm fingers traced the edge of the cold window. It was silent for a minute. Two minutes. Erik stood. The storm had passed. “Come to bed,” he said to Charles, who was still staring out. The telepath held up a finger.

“Just a moment.” Rolling his eyes, Erik lent forward, resting on Charles' shoulders and kissing the back of his head.

“I think it's gone now,” he said. “Can we go to bed? I'm so tired.” He threw in a yawn for good measure.

“I don't think it's gone, yet,” Charles said, feel Erik's fingers clench then relax in the curls of his hair. The base of his neck tingled, and although he craved Erik's touch, that could happen any night. This was special. A storm like this didn't happen often.

The electric in the air almost soldered to the window sill. Charles' fingers tapped on the wood, even though Erik leant forward and nervously pulled him back. “I don't want you getting struck by lightening,” he said jokingly, although he knew they both heard the terrified undertone.

“I won't, Erik,” Charles replied, tilting his head back and kissing the underside of the telekinetic’s chin. The flash of the lightening appeared. And a second later, so did the thunder.

It started as a light rumble, and Erik thought he was going to be all right. The rumble got louder, but his heartbeat was still under control. The volume climbed, and his fingers began to dig into Charles' shoulder until the brunet squirmed uncomfortably beneath him.

Then it crashed and banged and Erik bolted.

Charles cried after him, but it was too late. His feet thundered down the hallway; a student or two appeared at their bedroom doors as Charles hurtled after him, shouting quick instructions to either go to sleep or find Hank.

At the landing, Charles lost him. The hallway went in three different directions. Charles debated about reaching Erik with his mind, but decided against it; Erik would hate it. He chose the left alley and disappeared down it; the window at the end illuminated the hallway with a flash of lightening.

To Charles' right, the door to a bedroom was shut. To his left, the door was also shut, but Charles knew that no one was living in it, so...why should it be locked? After a few rams against it with his shoulder, the door gave way and Charles entered, staring around himself. The room was a fair size, but not large; a single, posted bed sat in the middle, with a mirror opposite and a chest of draws underneath it. A shared en-suite led into the next bedroom, but the door was shut. Charles listened for Erik; he headed to the closed curtains opposite the door, and peered around the large chest of draws. “Erik?” he whispered softly.

The older man was shaking violently, tears streaming down his cheeks. In his hands he twisted a scrappy piece of material. Terrified eyes stared up at Charles, and he sobbed loudly.

“Erik!” Charles bent down and tried to wrap him in his arms, but Erik moved away with a yelp.

“Don't,” he gasped out, “don't, I'm a monster.”

“Erik...” A solitary tear dribbled down Charles' face and dropped off his chin, landing on the back of his hands. “Erik, you're not a monster. What makes you think that?”

In response, Erik held up the ragged piece of material; Charles saw that it was a dirty piece of red, and it seemed to be hemmed. “It's a dress.” Erik coughed to clear his voice. “It's a piece of my mum's dress. I killed her, and the thunder, it's just like...” He trailed off and shook his head, but Charles knew.

“Gunfire.” Erik nodded slowly and finally let Charles hold him in his arms.

“It wasn't your fault, and the thunder cannot hurt you.” Erik cried wildly as Charles' soft hands smoothed his hair. “You should have told me.”

“I thought you would think of me as a coward.” Erik gazed up at him soulfully.

“Never,” Charles said, leaning down and kissing him on the lips. He held him, lulling Erik into an exhausted sleep as the blond listened to Charles mutter, “I love you, I love you,” over and over again; until, eventually, he began to believe it.

 


End file.
